


Don't Use While Operating Heavy Machinery

by Anonymous



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Church/Tucker - Freeform, I don't even ship this, I'm Sorry, M/M, WTFuck right?, Yeah no I don't even know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-12
Updated: 2014-06-12
Packaged: 2018-02-04 10:13:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1775389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Don't read this, it's crap.) So: Church is feeling harassed, Tucker is feeling a little out-of-sorts, Doc is a terrible field-medic, and Caboose is weirdly quiet because the author can't write him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Use While Operating Heavy Machinery

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea where this came from, I just--I have no idea. I also don't know why I wrote a Church/Tucker piece, either. Well,this entire day's been weird so far, so I'm not really gonna question it at this point. But, hey, props for writing something not PFL, right?
> 
> This was originally supposed to be a response to a challenge by Agent-Green99 ("A day") but it... changed. Anyway, I looked at it in the end and see that it's sort of inspired by "A Little Glass Vial" written by NeedsmoarDelta on RvBfics.com. Kind of like a different take on what would have happened when Zydrate and the Blood Gulch boys meet. Enjoy.

Pvt. Leonard Church was already nursing an oncoming headache when his teal-armored co-worker walked into the living room—sans helmet and with a nasty-looking bruise on the side of his face—plopped down in the chair across from him, and gave him a very serious look.  
  
“Church, we need to talk.”  
  
The soldier trying to get into a good napping position on the couch cracked an eye and contemplated strangling the greenish-blue soldier in front of him, but he was wearing fatigues and a cobalt T-shirt while the speaker was fully armored. Clearly, it would be too much effort and, really, what would be the point? Then he’d just be stuck in a box canyon in the middle of nowhere—alone!—with Caboose. Alone!  
  
And those Red assholes, of course.  
  
“Ugh. What, Tucker? Did Caboose get his head stuck in the freezer _again_?”  
  
“No.”  
  
Church waited for Tucker to go on but he just kept looking at him with a contemplative expression that, honestly, made him a little nervous. After a full moment of just looking at each other—still not saying anything—Church just shook his head and went back to trying to sleep.  
  
Finally, Tucker spoke.  
  
“Okay,” he began. “So, I know I keep saying that we can’t pick up chicks in a tank but, after five years of being stuck in this fucking canyon, I’ve come to the conclusion that there aren’t any chicks to pick up in the first place—”  
  
“Oh, gee,” Church cut in. “When did you finally realize _that_? When the first actual chick in the canyon turned out to be my psychotic ex-girlfriend, when the second ended up being _Donut_ , or when the third turned out to be Grif’s sister and almost as stupid as Caboose?”  
  
Surprisingly, Tucker didn’t interrupt his interruption, nor did he make some kind of snarky comeback. He just watched Church pensively as the man ranted, working himself up to a yell by the time he was done.  
  
This very un-Tucker-like behavior was really starting to unnerve Church. Not to mention the… odd look in the dark-skinned man’s eye.  
  
“Precisely. It’s a moot point,” Tucker said, eventually.  
  
In an effort to slip back into the banter that they usually used when speaking to each other, Church said, sarcastically, “Wow, Tucker, those are some pretty complicated words. Are you sure you know what they all mean?”  
  
Tucker, however, didn’t take the bait. Something was _definitely_ going on, Church decided.  
  
However, the teal soldier merely gave him a Look before continuing.  
  
“So, in the absence of any chicks, I’ve decided that we need to look into alternative options.”  
  
_Uh-oh_.  
  
Church did _not_ like where this seemed to be going, because it didn’t seem as if Tucker was about to announce that he was finally quitting the army and leaving this godforsaken canyon.  
  
As this went through his head, Tucker began stripping off his armor.  
  
The cobalt soldier felt his eyes widen as he shot up from the couch and backed away in the direction of the stairs. Tucker didn’t seem to notice as he, helmet removed and free of all upper armor, began fiddling with the straps to the different parts of his leg armor. Church took that opportunity to cautiously turn around and try to decide which set of stairs he should take—up or down?  
  
Most of the bases were located underground, so there were a couple levels between them and open air, and several below them.  
  
If he went down then—after passing down through the kitchen, the pantry, and the enlisted quarters—he’d reach the officer quarters level and be able to lock his door and hide in his room… after pushing his regulation stainless steel dresser in front of the door, of course. And his cot. And anything else he could find in the cramped space that the army considered to be a room.  
  
Then again, if he went up then, after passing up through the pantry (which basically acted as another buffer level between the sleeping quarters and the outside), he’d hit open air and be able to run across the canyon in the hopes that someone would hear him and help. Screaming “Bloody murder!” most likely.  
  
Yes, both plans included running and hiding.  
  
Yes, it was cowardly.  
  
But Church didn’t really have a lot of choice. Now, normally, he would think that Tucker was just playing a prank on him, trying to freak him out, but that look in his eyes didn’t really lend itself to that theory. It was, he realized, a manic glint of someone not fully in control of their faculties.  
  
Before Church finished weighing the pros and cons of each option, however, he was spun around and pushed against the cold metal wall of the living room level.  
  
He made to push Tucker away but his hands were caught and pinned at chest level against the wall, as well, and then the chocolate-skinned man’s lips crashed against his own.  
  
Church froze and, in that time, Tucker’s tongue forced its way into his mouth.  
  
It was a decent kiss, as far as kisses went, he supposed (discounting the fact that, not only was it a guy, it was _Tucker_!).  
  
Tucker’s lips were firm but not as forceful as they could have been and—for just a second, mind you—the way the other soldier’s tongue stroked his own made him go weak at the knees. And, since his eyes were open, Church saw that Tucker’s had drifted closed the moment they touched.  
  
After a moment, the man pulled back.  
  
Tucker’s eyes opened his eyes and Church saw that they were strangely glassy and unfocused. They stood there for a moment—toe to toe, chest to chest, and their foreheads almost touching—their eyes locked. Church was the first to break the silence.  
  
“What the hell, man?” he asked, weakly.  
  
Tucker simply grinned, a little maniacally, and leaned forward again. At that, Church finally gained the strength to move.  
  
He ducked his head, wrenched his arms out of his co-worker’s grasp, pulled his fist back, and decked the young man in front of him. Tucker crumpled to the ground and didn’t move.  
  
Shaking from adrenaline—and, admittedly, other things that he didn’t care to analyze at the moment—Church made his way upstairs. He had to take a momentary break in the pantry, sitting himself heavily on a cardboard box while he tried to work the shakes from his hands, but quickly continued when he thought he heard movement below.  
  
When he got outside, he began to sprint across the canyon, casting his eyes around for Doc. Hell, he’d even take _Caboose_ or _Sister_ at this point.  
  
“Church! Hey, _Church_! Doc, look, it’s Church!”  
  
The man in question, after regaining some semblance of composure, turned around to face Chesty and his cowardly, medic companion—he referred to Caboose in his head as Chesty, because he insisted that Church was his “super best friend”.  
  
When Church turned around, he saw two suits of armor—one Regulation Blue and the other purple.  
  
“Hey, guys” was probably what he _tried_ to say—although, it might have just as easily been “Shut up, Caboose” or “I hate you all”—but all that left his lips was, as Doc later described, much too enthusiastically for his taste, something between a whimper and a squeak.  
  
He let out a shuddering breath and tried again.  
  
“Tucker”—gasp—“He”—shudder—“Something wrong—”  
  
“Oh, yeah,” Doc cut in, animatedly. “We were just looking for him! Is he alright?”  
  
Church tried to relate what had happened back in the base but couldn’t manage to get the words out. After several moments of stuttering and confused looks between Doc and Caboose, he simply gave an exhausted wave of his hand toward their base, and sat down.  
  
The purple medic, still confused, pointed questioningly toward Blue Base. “He’s in there?”  
  
The cobalt soldier nodded weakly, and continued to focus on his breathing. Doc walked off, leaving Caboose to monitor his superior officer with his body language screaming “I’m worried!”  
  
After about ten minutes of Church keeping his head between his knees, muttering “ _In_ … and _out_ ” every time he took a breath, the idiot medic returned, seeming torn between being subdued and gleeful.  
  
“Well,” Doc said. “He’s out cold…”  
  
They stood there (Church still sitting) for a good three minutes before the medic finally cracked.  
  
“… So, what happened to him?”  
  
Church froze then, after a moment, stood up and brushed himself off. “He took a swing at me. I reacted… badly.”  
  
_When in doubt,_ the cobalt soldier thought to himself as Doc sputtered incredulously and Caboose gasped in barely restrained joy at Tucker being injured. _Lie through your teeth._  
  
“ _You_ knocked him out?! _You_ did? Not some other Church that I have yet to meet?”  
  
Back to his annoyed self, Church snapped back. “ _Yes_. I did. Me. The only Church that you know!”  
  
He took a deep breath to control his ever-present anger. Doc had told him not long ago that his all-consuming rage was wreaking hell on his health.  
  
“Listen,” Church began. “Could you just get past that part and run some tests or something on him? He was acting really… _weird_ before he went crazy, and somehow I don’t think it was postpartum depression.”  
  
“Oh, that’s easy! He had some Zydrate earlier! That’s probably what caused his… erratic behavior.” Doc’s voice was cheerful as the sun when he answered. “It’s really weird though, his reaction to it. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone becoming violent under its effects. _Weird_ …”  
  
The still-shaken Private in a now-sweat-drenched T-shirt had to work very hard to control his temper. Unfortunately, his voice still shook with barely-restrained fury when he finally responded.  
  
“Okay, what the fuck is that; why the fuck did you give it to _Tucker_ ; and what the fuck is happening!”  
  
Doc pulled back in alarm at the shout that Church’s questions morphed into, and Caboose nattered on unintelligibly in the background.  
  
“Uh, it’s a pain-killer,” the purple medic replied bewilderedly (and more than a little nervously). “Caboose accidentally hit him in the face a couple hours ago and I gave it to him for the pain.”  
  
Of course, Doc neglected to tell the fuming agent in front of him that Caboose hitting Tucker was really _his_ fault. And that he’d injected Tucker against the soldier’s will. It just wasn’t really an integral part of the story.  
  
Church took another deep breath and eventually managed to wrestle the urge to cause the idiot medic physical harm into submission.  
  
“Okay, fine, just… patch him up, alright? And don’t give anyone else that Zydrate shit, either.”  
  
A shot suddenly rang out in the canyon and their motley group ran for the cover of the base, trading insults with Simmons and Grif as they went.

 

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

 

Several hours later, a knock sounded at Church’s door.  
  
His bone-deep weariness was shown in every move he made as he cross the room and opened the door. When he did, it revealed the last person Church wanted to see:  
  
Tucker, wearing non-descript jeans and an aqua T-shirt.  
  
Upon seeing each other in the flesh, neither of the soldiers could find the ability to speak. Church noticed that his punch to the face hadn’t really done anything for the bruise that had already been there earlier, courtesy of Caboose, evidently. Tucker noted that Church, though he still wasn’t wearing armor, he now had a holster on his leg with an accompanying pistol.  
  
Both men opened their mouths at the same time, and then closed them. Church clearly his throat awkwardly while Tucker scuffed his boot against the floor and avoided making eye-contact.  
  
“So,” Church said eventually, casting around for something vaguely resembling normal to say. “What’s with the civvies?”  
  
The turquoise-clad soldier glanced up at him before quickly averting his gaze. “Oh, um, Doc took me off active duty. For ‘pending medical examinations’ or some shit.”  
  
Church nodded, trying to find some way to cut the tension between them. He looked at Tucker’s face again, at the same time Tucker’s eyes flickered to his own. Their eyes met and both men stilled.  
  
_Oh,_ Church thought, at a loss for anything else as he realized just how… _pretty_ his colleague’s deep brown eyes were.  
  
All at once they both moved.  
  
Church yanked him forward by his shirt, while Tucker fisted his hands in Church’s hair. Their lips were both tentative, questioning, as they moved; trying to find a rhythm they both agreed on.  
  
Eventually, after the shock wore off, Tucker gently caught Church’s bottom lip between his teeth, which elicited a growl from the other man.  
  
The two men pulled apart after a moment, and they just looked at each other. Church’s skin was flushed and his eyes flashed, wide awake.  
  
He pulled Tucker in for another, more aggressive kiss, before pulling the younger soldier into his room and slamming the door behind them.  
  
Doc had explained the “usual” effects of Zydrate to Church after they had gotten safely away from the spray of bullets outside, and later, as he lay entwined with Tucker, he wondered if the drug’s euphoric feeling was contagious.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm--I'm just sorry, okay? I am so sorry. I don't even ship this. I don't know why I wrote it... And do you want to know the worst part? I'm writing a goddamn SEQUEL...!


End file.
